Catch Me
by slytherin-until-i-die
Summary: Robb comforts Jon after he is awoken by a nightmare. Jon/Robb slash, smut, one-shot.


'_**Catch Me'**_

Jon Snow was falling.

His dreams were often plagued with vivid, kaleidoscopic images of himself falling from high towers, from clouds, from the top of the Wall, through lost empty spaces and usually toward the painfully jagged pillars of ice that acted as armour for the vast plains of Westeros, frozen by the cruel and merciless winter. But this particular dream was different. Jon squeezed his dark eyes shut as the bitter wind rushed past his body, whipping tendrils of his hair around his face and freezing the desperate gasps of air that he was able to suck into his lungs. The bright white of his surroundings pressed against his eyelids, the whistling of the wind rose to an almost deafening volume; Jon held his breath and prepared himself for the impact, bracing his trembling legs for the climax of his fall and the pain that would inevitably come with it... but instead, he found himself lying flat on his back, adorned in the heavy furs and boiled leather of the Night's Watch, on a soft bank of snow that yielded beneath him. He swallowed hard and gazed around him; rather than immense icy plains, all Jon could make out was trees – tall redcedars, black oaks and spindly waxmyrtles that beckoned sinisterly to him – closing in from all sides. He pulled himself into a sitting position, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to conserve heat... then his heart skipped a beat as he heard a faint sound of amusement from somewhere behind him. Jon leapt to his feet and whipped around to find himself staring in surprise into the face of the other subject that often featured prominently in his subconscious night-time visions.

Robb Stark cocked his head to one side as he watched him, amusement clear on his handsome, chiselled face. Jon felt his heart drop into his stomach as Robb pulled a hand through his ice-glistening auburn curls. "Stark," he murmured, raising a hand and taking a hesitant step toward him, but as he did so, Robb let out a childlike laugh that rang out and echoed through the forest like the pealing of bells before turning gracefully on his heel and moving off between the trees.

"Robb..." Jon said again with uncertainty, his feet following tentatively in the direction that his half-brother had run involuntarily.

"Come on, Snow," came Robb's reply, a sly grin in his voice. "Catch me." Then all went silent.

So Jon set off through the wall of trees, his eyes scanning the forest that lay before him, his heart hammering in his chest as he listened and watched for any sign of Robb's velvet voice and strong, lithe body. A combination of adrenaline and scorching testosterone roared through his veins as he picked his way over roots and through bogs and thickets. The air around him was cold and hostile, the ground hard and unwelcoming, but the presence of Robb in his midst sent an almost corporeal thrill of electricity coursing down his spine that spurred him on in his search. He glanced to his immediate left and caught a glimpse of auburn hair around a tree along with a whisper of laughter.

"You're a tease, Robb Stark," he said with a smile, doubling his pace in his jovial pursuit, but his brow furrowed when he heard no more. Nothing moved or made a sound, and it felt as though the forest was inhaling deeply. Then he heard a scream.

Jon held his breath and felt panic rise within him as he ran forward, his ears ringing with the sounds of Robb's scream. He had sounded anguished – what had attacked him? Was he in pain? Jon darted among the trees, searching for any sign of the other boy, but he moved too quickly and lost his footing. He collided hard with the ground as Robb cried out once more –

"Robb!" Jon heard himself yell aloud as he woke with a start, his breathing shallow, his forehead slick with cold sweat. His eyes flew open and he rolled over onto his side, moving to grasp at the thick sheets that covered his bed, in desperate need of something real, something physical, something tangible to pull him back to reality... but instead, his fingers were met by furs and soft, warm skin. His mouth fell open as he slowly got to his knees and took in the eternally-amused expression on the face that had, moments ago, been mere inches from his own.

"Stark," he sighed, his slender shoulders relaxing.

"Do you want to discuss it?" asked Robb, his forest-green eyes alight with inquisitiveness. "Your dream, I mean."

For a moment Jon said nothing – he bit his lip and lowered his gaze, ashamed of the words that he needed to say but was unable to string together into coherent sentences. So silent was what he remained as Robb reached up and placed a tentative, gentle hand on his bare shoulder, lowering him back down to the bed and propping himself up on his elbow beside him. In the candlelight, Robb's face seemed older and somehow even more impossibly handsome than it appeared by day; his strong jaw was slack, his cheekbones high and defined, his eyes filled with curiosity, concern and something else that Jon could not place.

"It was only a dream, Stark," said Jon, turning on his side toward his half-brother, shaking his head against his pillow and avoiding Robb's gaze.

"But it involved me," Robb pressed, leaning closer, so much so that Jon could smell the traces of the summer wine that lingered on his breath from dinner hours before. "You said my name."

Jon swallowed as Robb watched him, their faces inches apart and bathed in soft candlelight, his gaze lingering on his eyes, his long dark lashes, the gentle curve of his lips. And then, before he even realised what was happening, Robb placed a hand on the other side of Jon's head, leaned up and lowered his mouth gently to his. For a moment Jon lay frozen, his heart fluttering like a caged bird in his chest, then his eyes flickered to a close as his body and Robb's moulded tightly together. He relaxed slightly, his lips parting, allowing the softness of Robb's tongue entrance to his mouth, and he drew his bare arms up around the other boy's neck, tangling his fingers in Robb's auburn curls. With the help of Jon's hands, Robb's furs fell to the ground and Jon began to find the woollen tunic he wore beneath them to be nothing but a nuisance. Robb knelt up, carefully pulling Jon with him and, without breaking their eye contact, Jon found his sleeves and pulled the tunic up over Robb's head. He threw it to the stone floor and, suddenly feeling bold, moved his hands to Robb's hips, pulling him close and kissing _him_ this time, his skin tingling as Robb's fingers roamed across his naked back, his nails biting into his skin. Jon whimpered with pleasure into Robb's mouth, and he felt his half-brother smile against his lips in response.

Carefully, Robb trailed a hand down Jon's chest and pushed him back down to the bed, swinging a strong leg over him and leaning down to kiss his neck, his fingers absently playing with Jon's dark curls, his hot breath acting as a heady intoxicant. Jon lay back and stroked the flat planes of Robb's stomach, his chest, his collarbones, and his breath became more and more ragged as Robb moved down his body, leaving a path of gentle kisses in a jagged line down his torso. As he did so, he fumbled with the ties that secured Jon's trousers and, when they were suitably lose, gently moved his hand inside and tugged them down with a playful and reassuring smile. Robb seemed to know exactly how to touch him to illicit the greatest effect – Jon gasped and tangled a fist in Robb's hair as he lowered his head, his face flushed with streaks of pale red, and his soft, attentive lips came into contact with Jon's most sensitive flesh. His spine arched and he bit down on his lip to prevent himself from crying out, his muscles contracting and relaxing under Robb's touch; he had to fight to keep his breathing in check and he rolled his hips, meeting Robb's movements with his own as they developed and built up speed and rhythm. Robb looked up at him through his eyelashes, and the blatant lust that clouded his vision was all that it took to pull him up and finally over the wave of ecstasy that he was riding. He clutched Robb to him and saw stars behind his closed eyelids as he fingered his delicate curls.

After the predominant part of his mind and sanity had been recovered, Jon pulled himself into a sitting position and wrapped his legs around the other boy, crossing his ankles behind his back and resting his slick forehead against Robb's as they regained their breathing. Their body temperatures had become acclimatised, so much so that it was impossible to tell one boy's bare skin from the other's.

Robb moved his hands to Jon's back and opened his eyes. "So," he began, clearing his throat when he heard the sound of his gravelly voice. "What of your dream, Snow?"

Jon chuckled. "I can scarcely remember it now, Stark, thanks to you."

Robb frowned, twisting Jon's curls around those long fingers that Jon had always considered too elegant to wield a longsword. "But I heard you say my name. Was I part of your dream?"

"You're a part of most of my dreams," said Jon quite honestly. He lowered his gaze, his cheeks flushing pink.

When he looked up, he was met with a grin. "That's all I wanted to hear, Jon," said Robb with sincerity as he crushed his lips to Jon's once more.

/

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